Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit,
His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow;
For, falling to a devilish exercise,
And glutted now with learning's golden gifts,
He surfeits upon cursed necromancy;
Nothing so sweet as magic is to him,
Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss:
And this the man that in his study sits.
: Dr. Faustus (Marlowe)

Monday, May 25, 2009

Three nights: a thought on certainty

'No matter what the axiom system, truth will outrun proof'.In the quest to understand the reason for our being, we’ve invented everything: science, mathematics, astronomy, God, movies, economics, love, babies… while the fact of the matter is that we just need nothing save for some smiles, a warm touch, a kind voice, a longing glance… All of the latter is so that we belong to someone, or that someone belongs to us. Why this need to possess? Let’s just leave everything to fate, everything to chance; chance that has ensured that today I’m unattainable. You know what I mean.

What if what? This is it. This is me. This is the fact. This is the truth. This is the proof. Is there any need for any axiom or theorem? Now or ever? NOThis is it. This is me. This is the fact. This is the truth. This is the proof.

8 comments:

Anonymous
said...

The daedal mould in which my thoughts originate gains from experience...adds to neurons like rust to iron...each breath is a new circumstance...and in the end..theres just me...pallbearer to my own dissolution...ever so eager to deconstrust a saturnine existence...for that elusive self that never was...trapped forever in a treacherous utopia forged from years spent in yearning...